


close to you

by strangeparties



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domesticity, Established Relationship, M/M, and morning sex, really just an excuse to write lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeparties/pseuds/strangeparties
Summary: Lucas, Eliott, and a life together in 2 vignettes.(or: domesticity & morning sex)
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 3
Kudos: 190





	close to you

**Author's Note:**

> notes: i can do pure fluff sometimes instead of pure trash lmao happy release of s5e1!

1.

A series of forward-thinking investments leads Eliott’s parents to the purchase of the 18 arrondissement apartment a few years ago. His parents are persuaded at the advice of their consultants, something about property appreciation and tax minimisation and other reasons Lucas imagines Eliott’s parents paid other people to think about so they wouldn’t have to. Eliott only begins occupying in earnest a month before Lucas moves in, and would sometimes take time out of their shared weekends to decorate the apartment. _I want it to be a surprise,_ he whispers into Lucas’s hair, when Lucas asks him when he’ll be, well, allowed to see it.

Lucas, not one to ruin surprises, lets Eliott hold the suspense.

So there he is now, newly moved in, his bags on the floor. He must look like an idiot standing in awe gaping at the living room for almost a minute. Two bedrooms, city view, a gallery of mismatched old paintings, elegant furniture that’s a bit rough around the edges, patterned wallpaper. It looked like an artist’s studio in Montmarte. It looked like Eliott took a piece of himself, merging abstraction, figuration, and romantic landscape painting, and had the space mirror the interior of his mind.

It hits him, very suddenly, that being in this space is like receiving a VIP invite into Eliott’s safe space, into his heart. And Lucas closes his eyes for a moment, thinks they’ve finally reached something deeper — something that lingered past the body. This must be what love really is: warm, fuzzy, and constantly feeling like he’s in a Disney animation where they’re both the princes dancing together in the ballroom. Ahead of them lay a billion and one paths. All happy endings.

As they walk further inside, Lucas feels a moment of deep appreciation for the surreal turns his life has taken. From nearly homeless, to sleeping on the couch at the coloc, to embarking on the gay suburban dream. Then his mind starts to wander in the direction of association dues, soundproofed walls, and where the nearest convenience stores are for those late night alcohol and junk food runs.

Eliott wraps an arm around Lucas’s shoulders, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“My parents let me have free reign with the the layout and fixtures,” Eliott explains softly. When Lucas tilts his head to glance at Eliott, lines flow from the edges of his eyes, seeping into his skin. For some reason, they make him appear younger. Everything about Eliott seems to glow and he makes Lucas soft on the inside. “And — I have something to show you.”

He leads Lucas to the kitchen, a dining table situated in the middle of the quaint area. Fairy lights are strung all over the walls in lopsided smiles. The dim orange light embedded in the ceiling glints off the metal of the pans, and Lucas is struck with an idea.

“Eliott,” Lucas says, very solemnly, “this is beautiful. But you’re not allowed in here.”

Immediately Eliott’s eyebrows snap together, expression torn between looking confused or mildly offended. Lucas bites at the inside of his cheek to keep the giggle threatening to bubble out his throat. A put-out Eliott is an adorable Eliott.

“What? But… I thought you’d like the kitchen decor. There’s even refrigerator magnets of, well, us.” He sweeps one arm forlornly towards said steel refrigerator, where lo and behold, three blocks bearing their self-appointed couple portmanteau (an inspired namesquish, if Lucas could say so himself) were crammed together in the center, holding in place a couple of—

“Is that… the water bill?” Lucas finally breaks into a laugh. He comes closer to inspect, squinting at the words. “You used our beautiful namesquish to stick a couple of bills on the fridge? Not even things like details of our next date or our anniversary?”

He hears the pout in Eliott’s voice. “That’s in my calendar and notes app…”

Lucas pretends he’s not already distracted (dickstracted?) by the way the material of Eliott’s button-up shirt stretches across his chest. He’s too amused at Eliott’s despondency over a matter that quite frankly, Eliott should already be aware of. He’s given Eliott way too many chances and it’s all led to essentially the beginnings of food poisoning, every single time.

He says as much, taking mercy on Eliott’s pitifully sweet expression. “Eliott, this area is strictly for you eating and not you cooking. I’m not sure I’m ready for any sentient beings to take up permanent residence in my stomach,” he says.

Eliott’s face falls, then a second later immediately brightens as though he’s recalled something of great import. Oh, no, that can’t be good. Once an idea pops into his head, Eliott is ablaze with enthusiasm. “I’ve been trying out a new recipe for curry, though—“

“Curry?” Lucas repeats, skeptically.

“I’d love for you to try it. I swear I’ve been practicing. Sofiane says it’s good.”

“Eli, if we find out Sofiane’s in the ER within the next few days, Imane’s coming for _my_ head.”

“No, really. It’s the best. Please, baby?” Eliott pleads, looking at Lucas with stupid puppy dog eyes that Lucas falls for every damn time, without fail.

Today’s no exception, because Lucas’s will to resist is as weak as his stomach. He sighs grudgingly, “Fine. We have to turn on all the fire alarms, though.”

Later that evening, as Lucas scrubs his mouth with about a gallon of mouthwash, he dimly hears Eliott in the background _—_ _babe I’m sorry I didn’t know it was 2 curry cubes I thought it said 6! —_ and thinks Sofiane must literally possess an iron gut, the bastard.

He texts his friends a few moments after. He’s forgotten to reply to their messages in the groupchat, and resolves to correct it now as he gargles.

_move-in done! 😁_

_tho eliott’s cooking again 🤢_

_pls anticipate my early demise 💀_

_can’t wait for u guys to see the apartment 🥳_

Later, he surveys the bedroom, the only space left bare except for a queen-sized bed, thick comforters, and a small table with some art supplies. In just a few days, this room — all the rooms — will feel as much his as Eliott’s. He has little to no decorating prowess, but he’s pretty good with finishing touches. 

Eliott meets him in the bedroom, profusely apologizing by brushing his lips gently against his mouth again and again and again. He disappears into the bathroom to leave Lucas to his own devices, and that’s when he sees it.

He finds it stuffed in between his school notebooks. He’s shuffling clothes and books around in his duffel bag for his favourite sleep shirt when he spies it in the peripheral of his vision, crumpled around the edges but no less pristine in the center. It’s Eliott’s first drawing, the one he left on his pillow the first time they wake up together.

A smile seeps into his face. Upon the sight of that little hedgehog and raccoon cocooned together in bed, the intensity of the memory almost forces a physical reaction out of him. He wants to cry. This is where it all started.

Eliott finds him like that, slumped on the floor, misty-eyed and clutching at the drawing like a lifeline.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Eliott kneels next to him, gathering him in the circle of his arms. He runs a thumb across Lucas’s cheek. “Was it the curry? Is your stomach upset?”

“No,” Lucas hiccups, lets himself be pulled into Eliott’s chest, the paper their only barrier. “I may have developed some sort of immunity, no thanks to me being your guinea pig.”

If Eliott notices the paper in his hands, he says nothing. Just fixes him with this gaze that looks so fond that Lucas is left breathless, filling him up from within, flooding his system and gushing out of him. It’s happiness, fiery, searing, and worming its way out his core and into the floors, the ceilings, the walls. Eliott must feel it, too, the way he smiles into his hair. 

(The next morning, Eliott sheepishly pulls the bill out and files them in a clear envelope uncreatively labelled - what else - ’BILLS.’

Lucas shakes his head as he slips the drawing under the covers of the magnet.)

2.

Lucas lay on his naked back with his eyes shut closed shut, small snores echoing in their bedroom. One hand rests on his stomach and the other over his head, and his legs twist in the sheets. Sunlight streams in from the window overhead. Eliott can stare at Lucas, just like this, forever; he cradles the memory of Lucas beside him in bed even through tough post-episode nights. It glows inside him like a primordial touchstone. Through loneliness, through his neverending doubts, Lucas is the one thing that’s undeniably constant.

Eliott fights the urge to kiss him awake, to kiss the tender lips he adored so much. His gaze flicks up to Lucas’s tousled hair, strewn all over the pillow. He loves having Lucas to himself when the sun comes to meet them and basks Lucas in its light. It makes him look irresistible, so incredibly soft, and Eliott couldn’t really keep his hands to himself. Why would he, though?

A Carpenters lyric pops into his head. _So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue._

“Finally listening to real music, Eli?” Lucas’s husky sleep-scratched voice warms Eliott, seeping under and accumulating until it becomes a second layer of skin, like a hot embrace.

“You can read minds now?” Eliott leans over and places a small kiss on Lucas’s cheek.

“No, your brain to mouth filter is failing.” Lucas wipes the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand, laughing in groggy three-staccato beat. It sounds like bells to Eliott’s ears. “What time is it?”

“Earlier than usual. You can go back to sleep if you want.” Eliott knows Lucas is always tired now from bac preparations, and he himself hasn’t been the best at keeping his energy up on weekdays. He loved his job at the video store, but it hardly made him pumped up for anything more than a quiet night streaming movies on their bed or drawing yet another (mis)adventure featuring the little raccoon avatar and his tiny hedgehog love.

Lucas’s beautiful blues stare at him hazily, like he can’t quite make him out.

“What?” Eliott blinks.

“Nothing. Just — why do you still look like you flew out of the latest GQ even with the worst bedhead ever,” Lucas says, voice turning fond.

Despite him being somewhat used to Lucas’s randomly timed compliment-bombs, blood gushes up Eliott’s cheeks. When his gaze returns to Lucas, he sees Lucas looking even more awake, face radiant with colour, but he’s now also sporting a sly grin.

With a small amount of effort, Lucas pushes himself off the mattress and over Eliott, intertwining their legs together.

“Mm, on second thought. I might be the one reading minds today,” Eliott says knowingly, chuckling as he feels hardness prod on the inner side of his thigh. He pulls Lucas closer with a hand on his hip, before Lucas speaks against his lips, _I can’t help it, especially when I wake up and see you looking so good._

“You’re unreal,” Eliott says in return, enjoying the bloom of red on Lucas’s face. When it settles into a flush of pink enveloping his cheeks, the look on Lucas’s face is half exhilaration, half hope; full of unspoken invitation. “I’m so lucky.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Lucas demands, and there’s that insistent hardness, hot against Eliott’s hand.

“Demanding,” Eliott hums in response, capturing Lucas’s lips in a gentle kiss which steadily grew messier, saliva smearing across their lips. Eliott thinks this really must be love, when he could taste each other’s morning breath on their tongues and _still_ prioritize the need to touch above all else. Eliott breaks the kiss, moving lower to Lucas’s neck, who tips his head back in response, giving him better access. His lips travel over Lucas’s shoulder, his cheek, his ear, and anywhere else his lips could reach.

“It’s your fault. Stop looking hot at an ungodly hour and maybe I won’t be so horny in the morning,” Lucas says - or pants, rather, nearly delirious off the affection Eliott’s showering him.

Eliott smirks, leaning over to meet Lucas in another kiss - this one more languid - and hoists him up so that he’s perfectly positioned on his lap, enjoying Lucas’s mildly surprised shriek at being pulled upright so suddenly.

Lucas, ever quick to adjust, recovers quick and reaches into the bedside table, performing a rather complicated contortionist act to reach the lube and condoms. Eliott admires the flex of muscles as they reach over. He’s eternally grateful for their collective foresight, electing to sleep without shirts and underwear, wrapped around each other under the comforters through the night. It certainly makes for much easier access and much less hassle.

Later, his hands grip tight on Lucas’s ass as they move together at a frenzied speed. Lucas bounces on top of him like a man possessed, riding him ’til kingdom come. He pants, _oh oh oh,_ mouth hanging open, body grinding in figure eights, helpless to do anything more than cling onto Eliott’s shoulders for support.

“We… haven’t… soundproofed,” Eliott says with great effort, breathing unsteady, the sounds Lucas is making breaking all his restraints.

“Fuck the neighbours," Lucas grits fiercely, eyes half-lidded. "I — I’m—“

And Eliott sucks on his tongue, hard cock exerting a relentless pressure inside Lucas. He moans helplessly into the kiss, shaking his head against the onslaught of his orgasm.

Much later in the day, they receive a memo from the building administration, something about unhappy neighbors and noise complaints. It’s Lucas who receives the building officer at the door, and he’s blushing _furiously_ , looking like he’s ready to float in zero gravity at the force of embarrassment.

Eliott, meanwhile, just laughs behind his fist, and promises to look into soundproofing at the soonest.

He does _not_ bring up that Lucas is the one responsible for soundproofing being necessary in the first place.

.

(“It takes two to fuck, Eliott!” Lucas will snap later, when Eliott can’t help himself and says it anyway, just to tease. “Do you think I’ll be so fucking loud if I was jerking myself off?”

“Well…” Eliott mock contemplates, and is rewarded with a loud and painful smack on the shoulder.)

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to bug me on tumblr @pinkplanetaries :)


End file.
